


Storm in a Teacup

by Total_Mal



Series: Soul-Bound [7]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Total_Mal/pseuds/Total_Mal
Summary: Written for the SirDust Discord Cliche Challenge.Pentious is used to working through colds, fevers, and flus, but Angel isn't having any of it.Post-A Wide Collar & Short Leash (PLEASE READ THAT FIRST OR THIS WON'T MAKE MUCH SENSE).If you read, PLEASE COMMENT!
Relationships: Angel Dust/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Soul-Bound [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970773
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Storm in a Teacup

**Author's Note:**

> "The best cure for a sick soul is love, but even the most advanced physician cannot prescribe it as medicine."  
> ― Suzy Kassem

He had been feeling like absolute rubbish all day, but when the afternoon heat settled into the mixing room, amplifying the harsh chemical fumes already permeating the air around him, Simon found himself losing his balance and stumbling against the nearest wall. He let out a gravely hack and dug into his tattered work apron to search for a spare rag, hands shaking slightly as he struggled to breathe through his runny nose and swollen throat.

"Simon, ya alright there, lad? You're looking paler than porcelain,” one of his shift-mates called over the hiss of steam and the clanking of the machines on the factory floor below.

Glancing up through red-rimmed eyes, Simon forced a nod even as his shoulders trembled. "Just not up to dick I'm afraid..." he murmured, sniffling as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. His coworker frowned, stepping away from their own mixing vat to rub under the sweaty mop of his bangs. Simon tried to pull away, but found himself backed up against the wall and he flinched as his coworker’s calloused hand made contact with his clammy skin.

 _"Pearchwood!"_ Simon winced as the shrill voice of the shift supervisor cut through the buzzing static that had fogged his head all morning. "Stop _lazing_ about."

Simon nodded and weakly pushed himself off the wall, only to wobble and desperately grab onto his coworker who immediately steadied him on his feet. The older man frowned as Simon clung to his shirt said, "Sir, the poor lad can barely stand. Might be best ta send him on home."

The supervisor's dark eyes flickered to the teenager's trembling silhouette and he let out an annoyed huff before digging into his pocket and pulling out a dirty looking handkerchief. He offered it and then gestured back to the wooden barrels of pigment. "Shove his head out the window for a tick, but if your arse isn't back to work in the next _five minutes,_ you won't have to worry about coming in tomorrow, Pearchwood."

Simon let out a shaky exhale and nodded, reaching for the cloth and scrunching it in his fist. "Of course, sir..." he said as the supervisor gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, passing the other dozen or so men working in the hazy chemical room.

"Lad, are ya-"  
  
Simon coughed, raising the filthy handkerchief to cover his mouth as his coworker rubbed over the teen's tense upper back. When he finally recovered after a few moments, his eyes watery and bloodshot, he offered a weak smile and gestured back to his abandoned vat. "Prop me up with a broom."  
  
His coworker furrowed his brow, but nodded as he helped Simon back to the mixing station, using a spare broom like a makeshift crutch to support some of his body weight. “Are you gonna be alright?” he asked as Simon gripped the wooden paddle, slowly and carefully stirring through the massive concoction of dyes.  
  
Nodding, Simon let out a shaky breath, eyes locked on the rippling mixture below. “I’ll live.”

* * *

Pent frowned as Angel looked over the thermometer, watching the spider's mismatched eyes narrow at the read-out. "I hope you know that you’re overreacting to all of this. It's just a touch of heat," Pentious muttered. "Hardly anything to be concerned-” Before he could finish his sentence, his throat seized and he began to hack, causing the snake's entire body to coil tightly underneath the silk sheets.

Snorting, Angel shook his head and set the thermometer down on the nightstand. "You're sicker than a goddamn _dog._ 102 ain't enough ta send your dumbass to the hospital, but you not allowed ta leave the bed until you're back in the 90s."

"Angel-" Pent whined, only for the other Demon to drag the sheets up to his shoulders, forcibly tucking him into the bed. "I have _work_ to do."  
  
For the last week he’d been experimenting with a new battery system for his lasers that would (theoretically) boost the length of their charge. The last few tests had failed, but he knew the answer wasn’t far off. He was just so bloody _close_ to figuring out how to keep the charge current _stable_.

"Don't care. Whateva lil' project you've got goin' on can wait." Angel unplugged his phone from the wall charger, shooting off a quick text before glancing back down at the pouting snake. "The boiz are gonna make ya some soup and crackers. Got a preference or is chicken noodle good enough fer ya?"

Pent crossed both arms under the covers as he turned his head to the side, refusing to meet his boyfriend’s stare. "Leek soup..." he said gruffly. Immediately Angel raised an eyebrow and Pent heaved a tired sigh. "They'll know the recipe," he assured as he reached for the box of tissues Angel had brought out from their bathroom. He blew his nose, wincing at the literal _mountain_ of snot that clung to the crumpled tissue in his hands. Of course, despite having expelled what felt like an entire pint's worth of mucus, he still felt completely _stuffed._

Nodding, Angel added onto his original text and then pulled out the snake's tablet from inside the nightstand. "While they're fixin' that, how about we set you up with a movie or somethin'?" Angel suggested, casually flicking through the shows and films he’d long since downloaded onto Pentious’ media archive. "I ever show ya some of the stuff I used ta watch?"

"You mean when you were alive?" Pent said as he tossed the used tissues on top of the nightstand with a weak groan. "You’ll have to be more specific.”  
  
Pentious had seen many movies and shows over the course of his life, but he never stayed too long in one specific era of media. He liked bouncing around the decades, finding the contrast fascinating both in terms of technological and sociological advancements.

Of course, _American_ media dominated the market across all industries.

Most of what he had seen was either an American production or heavily inspired by it so he wasn’t _entirely_ unfamiliar with the spider’s favorites. However, he knew there was only so much overlap between what he had managed to see and what Angel had watched during his lifetime.

Chuckling, Angel adjusted the pillows and helped Pent to sit up (keeping him bundled under the warm sheets in the process). “Yeah, I know I’ve taken ya to the big picture shows, but I’m talkin’ about the cartoon reels. _Merry Melodies_ , _Silly Symphonies_...y’know, that sorta thing.”  
  
Pent furrowed his brow, trying to recall if he had ever heard of those titles before his mouth opened into a small “o”. “You’re referring to animation? I can’t say I’m as familiar with the genre.”  
  
He’d watched a few cartoons here and there over the course of his afterlife, but Pentious had been more interested in seeing live-action films. Maybe it was nostalgia for the living world, but seeing real people, _normal_ people just existing...it was comforting in a small way.  
  
Plopping back down on the bed, Angel crossed his long legs underneath him and scrolled through the library he’d curated. “They’re the best thing ta watch while you’re feelin’ unda the weather. Course, when I was alive, ya had ta actually _go_ to the theater if ya wanted to see the latest cartoons.”  
  
Angel pulled up a handful of preview images and grinned, enlarging a black and white drawing depicting a very curvy woman with an oversized head and dark curly hair. “This gal was my _fav._ Loved me some _Betty Boop,_ but Molls preferred the _Disney_ shit.”  
  
Pentious leaned into Angel’s upper arm as he sniffled. “If you’re going to force me to stay in bed like a bloody invalid-” he shot a quick pout up to Angel who just grinned and kissed the top of his hood. “-then I may as well be _entertained_ in the process. Show me these cartoons of yours.”  
  
“Takin’ a rest day ain’t gonna kill ya, Pen,” Angel assured as he loaded the first cartoon, setting the tablet against a pillow so they could both watch. “Sides, ya got me and the eggs willin’ ta wait on ya hand and...well shit, I guess it’d be hand and _tail.”_  
  
 _“Very clever,”_ Pent said snidely as he grabbed another tissue, wiping away a loose trail of snot that had managed to escape one of his swollen nostrils. “Just start the show.”  
  
Angel smiled and rubbed his shoulder as a jaunty intro song began to play, the spider humming along merrily to the tune.  
  
Unlike most film (and even modern television), the cartoons were rather fast-paced and almost stunningly short. However, Pent was quick to note that there was a certain amount of charm to their exaggerated expressions and movements. After a few episodes, he found himself unable to deny his own bewildered amusement. “What on _earth_ are we watching?”  
  
“A fuckin’ fantastic cartoon, that’s what,” Angel said with a wide grin as he playfully elbowed the snake. “C’mon, Pen. She’s a _doll.”_  
  
“She is,” Pent admitted, watching as Betty actually ran for _president_ to the loud cheering of her adoring fans. “I can’t say I had anything like this when I was alive. I read, listened to music, and tended to my wife and I's social duties...but most of my time was spent working.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt the tell-tale tickle in the back of his throat and he immediately groped around for the tissue box. The first loud hack woke Nuggets from their bed, making the pig squeal and hide behind the wicker basket before slowly peeking out at them curiously.  
  
Pentious felt Angel squeeze his arm as he hacked into the fabric, his entire chest shuddering with each cough. “You breathin’?” Angel murmured after the worst had died down, leaving Pentious feeling a little light-headed while his lungs _ached_ from even the most shallow of breaths.  
  
Before he could respond, the bedroom door opened and several eggs waddled inside, holding a tray loaded up with tea and two bowls of soup. Angel paused the cartoon and reached over to take the tray from them. “Thanks lil’ fellas. Make sure ta keep a good supply on hand,” he told them as Nuggets climbed into the bed pit with them, nudging Pentious’ hip with their snout.  
  
“Do you need anything else, bossman?” the eggs asked, looking on sympathetically as the snake gave a miserable swipe under his nose and mouth. Once his face was clean of spit and snot, Pent let out a soft moan before tossing the crumpled tissue next to the growing pile on the nightstand.  
  
“No, you’re dismissed…” he muttered as Angel lifted the first bowl of soup and spooned a portion to his lips. His red eyes flickered to the offered utensil and Pent scowled. “I can feed _myself,_ Angel.”  
  
“Tough titties, I call dibs,” Angel said with a cheeky wink. “Sides, if ya gotta cough, you’re just gonna end up spillin’ this shit all over yourself. Don’t be a dumbass, babe.” He waggled his eyebrows and added, “So open up and lemme feed ya your weird British slop.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Pent opened his mouth to argue, but Angel took the opportunity to shove the utensil between his teeth. Hot soup met his tongue, the flavor barely registering due to how stuffed up he was. Nevertheless, the muted taste combined with the familiar warmth and texture was still a comforting balm against his raw throat.  
  
Pent swallowed and glared at Angel who just leaned in and nuzzled his cheek as the snake hissed, “It’s not _slop._ And this particular recipe isn’t British, it’s Welsh.”  
  
“Welsh?” Angel asked with a curious stare before he snapped the fingers of one of his free hands. _“Wales._ Yeah, that’s like an island or some shit, right?” He unpaused the cartoon and dipped the spoon back into the bowl, raising it to the snake’s mouth. “I always forget that everythin’ in Europe is hella close together. You fuckers were basically sardines in a can.”  
  
Sighing, Pent nodded and opened his mouth, letting Angel feed him before licking his lips clean. “Something like that, yes.” His gaze drifted back to the screen as the cartoon ended and the credits played before skipping to the next episode in the series.  
  
They had gone through several different _Fleischer_ cartoons by the time they finished their soup and moved onto tea. Pent nearly scalded himself when a coughing fit came on just as he made to pour himself another cup, but Angel thankfully stabilized the pot before he could spill more than a handful of drops onto the blanket covering his chest. “I _hate_ being ill,” Pent groused as he laid back against the pillows, his watery eyes tracking the antics of an entirely new set of characters that the title card introduced as _Tom & Jerry._  
  
“It sucks balls, but it’ll pass,” Angel said, shrugging both sets of shoulders. “The more ya rest, the faster it’ll go.” He glanced back to the screen just as Tom received a cream pie to the face while attempting to serenade a female cat with a rather _obnoxious_ love song. Immediately the spider burst into a fit of giggles, lifting one arm to point mockingly at the screen. “Fuck, it’s the _oldest_ gag in the book, but I’m always a sucker for a good pie ta the face!”  
  
Pent snorted as the cat angrily cleaned off the cream with a swipe of his paw. “It’s a waste of a perfectly good _pie_ though,” he countered just before Tom took an entire _iron_ to the face. When the now flat-faced cat turned to stare blankly at the camera, even Pentious couldn’t help but chuckle, wincing as the laughter tickled his already irritated throat. As his laughs devolved into a series of aching hacks, he felt Angel’s hand return to rub over his upper back, gently soothing the tense line of his shoulders.  
  
“So much for laughter bein’ the ‘best medicine’…” Angel sighed as he paused the cartoon, one of his free hands groping for a fresh tissue as more mucus leaked down Pent’s upper lip. “Then again, it didn’t do jack shit for my cousin’s polio.”  
  
Pent winced as he let Angel wipe his face. “It’s not easy to laugh through a _flu.”_  
  
Smirking, Angel tossed the used tissue on top of the crumpled pile and said, “That's really funny comin’ from the jerk who was determined ta try an’ _work_ through one less than an hour ago.” He slowly pushed Pent back down against the pillows and added, “Anyway, we should probably go ahead an’ knock your ass out for a bit now that you’ve had some food.”  
  
“I’m not even tired,” Pent said with an indignant glare as he watched Angel stumble out of the bed, barely managing to catch himself and straighten before he could pitch forward again.  
  
The spider rolled his eyes and made a bee line for their bathroom. “That’s what meds are for, babe,” he called as he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet, coming back with a bottle of green-blue liquid. “One shot of this and you’ll have a nice _long_ nap.”  
  
Pentious furrowed his brow as Angel measured out a portion using the cap before offering it to him. “That looks and smells absolutely _vile,”_ he muttered as he took the cap and downed the noxiously thick formula with a full-body shudder.  
  
Taking the cap back, Angel leaned in and nuzzled his brow, cupping both sides of the snake’s head in his upper hands. “Yeah, well I don’t got a spoonful of sugar ta make it go any easier. Just chase that shit with some tea and settle your fat ass down.” He closed the bottle and set it on top of the nightstand next to Pent. Sighing, the snake picked up his lukewarm tea and forced down a mouthful if only to rid the back of his throat of the (admittedly soothing, but _vulgar)_ taste.  
  
As Pent coiled under the blankets, Angel reached over, picking Nuggets out of their basket and depositing the pig next to Pentious. “C’mon, Nuggies. Why don’tcha nap with papa for a bit?”  
  
Immediately Nugs snuffled into the snake’s elbow, staring up at him with big black eyes while Angel cooed and pulled his phone out from inside his jacket to snap a picture of them both. Pent pursed his lips even as he pet over the pig’s back spines. “Really? Do our followers need to see me looking like a _leper?”_  
  
“This one’s just fer me,” Angel assured, climbing back into bed so that Fat Nuggets was sandwiched between them. “Now quit the stubborn act and let the meds do their job, asshole.”  
  
Pent sniffled as Angel started up the next cartoon and tucked his legs up against the snake’s coiled tail. “If you wanted someone less stubborn, you shouldn’t have shacked up with a _Brit…”_ he said quietly as the opening theme blared out from the tablet’s speakers.  
  
Wrapping one arm around Pent’s shoulder, Angel pinched the snake’s scaly arm and said, “Yeah yeah, it’s a good thing I’m Italian then huh?” He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, bub, but we got you fuckers _beat_ in the stubborness department.”  
  
“Indeed…” Pentious murmured as the title card and credits gave way to the actual cartoon, showing a grey bulldog with a spiked collar sleeping soundly in a dog house outside. As he watched, Pent found his limbs growing looser and so very _heavy_ against the sheets. He slowly tucked his head into the crook of Angel’s arm, finding the fur warmer and far more comfortable than the silk pillows behind him.  
  
He distantly felt Angel’s fingers trailing over his hood and he let out a deep yawn as the spider murmured, “When we finish all these, I should introduce ya ta Mae West. Now that gal was a real funny broad.”  
  
“Mmmm, is she a cartoon as well?” Pentious murmured tiredly, his eyes sliding shut as Angel traced nonsensical patterns along his scales..  
  
“Nah, she was an actress and kinda my fuckin’ hero. Least when I was still livin’.” Angel laughed, the motion vibrating against Pent as the spider’s entire chest hummed with the sound. “Took no shit from _anybody_ and always gave back better than whateva she got.”  
  
Pent gave a weak nod, not bothering to open his eyes. “She sounds lovely,” he said even as his tongue felt like it was weighed down by a brick of lead. “I’ve always liked…” He yawned again. “-those who could speak their mind…”  
  
“Heh, that why you’re with me then? Cuz ya know you ain’t ever shuttin’ my ass up no matter what?”  
  
Pentious hummed, but otherwise didn’t respond. The quiet lure of a warm nap was too strong and with little prodding, he found himself pulled under the blanket of a drug-induced sleep.

* * *

Simon frowned as he watched yet another well-dressed couple walk past the shop without even pausing to look at the window display. It had been several weeks since they had last seen an order (aside from the usual requests to fix some loose stitches or reattach a favorite button) and the bills were slowly stacking up on his grandfather’s desk.  
  
He didn’t know how much was left in the small safe upstairs, but his grandfather rarely smiled when organizing the checkbook.

"Simon, what are you gawking at?"

The boy flinched and turned, hopping off the window shelf as he offered his grandfather a slightly guilty smile. "Nothing," he insisted even as the older man raised a skeptical eyebrow behind the rim of his thick spectacles. "Just thought we might have some customers coming in."

Adjusting the waistband of his pants, his grandfather sighed and smoothed out the wrinkles in the dense fabric before petting over Simon's short black hair. "Does a pot come to a boil when it's _watched?"_

 _"No..."_ Simon admitted with a pout as his grandfather chuckled, his gentle laughter devolving into soft coughs as he shooed the boy away from the window and back toward the sewing machine in the corner of the shop workspace. "But it's been a _really_ long wait."

"It has," his grandfather agreed as he sat down on the worn chair behind the machine, the wood creaking even under his lanky form. "But never mind that.” He cleared his throat, only for a few more coughs to escape his pale lips before he straightened up and lifted his chin. “Come here and let me show you how to make a nice clean-”

Before he could finish, the bell on the door tinkled and they both glanced up from the machine to see a stern looking gentleman in a black silk suit standing in the doorway. "Am I interrupting your work, Halwyn?" the man asked as he removed his snow-battered hat from atop his balding head.

Pursing his lips, Halwyn glanced back at Simon. " _Seimon bach, os gwelwch yn dda dewch â mi fy pibellau a tybaco?"_ he said quietly, nodding toward the door that led up to their cramped apartment build above the shop.

Simon nodded, stepping away from the sewing machine to round the back-counter. _"Iawn, tad-cu."_ _  
__  
_He turned, briefly locking eyes with the man at the front of the shop before the stranger turned his attention back to Halwyn who was now adjusting the thread tension with shaking hands. Simon frowned and then climbed the rickety staircase two at a time, careful to step over the planks that creaked before entering the much warmer one-bedroom space.  
  
Smiling at the sight of his grandfather's old tabby sleeping by the lit stove, Simon leaned over and gave her a few quick pets to the belly. He giggled as her ear twitched in mild annoyance before heading to his grandfather's desk tucked underneath the snow-frosted window.

As he opened up the drawer containing Halwyn’s wooden pipe and the bag of his favorite tobacco brand, Simon paused, catching sight of his grandfather's handkerchief. The small cloth was usually neatly folded and tucked away in the pocket of his grandfather's vest or his jacket at the very least...but here it was, crumpled and discarded like a common work-rag.  
  
Pulling out the cloth, Simon's eyes went wide as the fabric unfurled to reveal several rusty red splotches staining the fabric weave, slightly yellowed where the blood had smeared against his grandfather's mustache.  
  
He dropped the handkerchief to the floor, swallowing hard as he ran to the door, only to stop and dart back over to the desk, grabbing the pipe and tobacco before stumbling down the stairs. "Grandpa!" he called as he wrenched the door open, nearly slamming the wood into the opposite wall. "Grandpa, we need to take you to a-" he paused, immediately falling quiet as he caught sight of his grandfather leaning over the counter, head in his hands. The strange man in silk was gone, but the snow dragged in by his boots hadn't yet melted against the scratched hardwood. "Grandpa?"

Halwyn inhaled sharply and straightened up, forcing a smile to his wrinkled face as his soft honey brown eyes met Simon's matching set. "Where do we need to take me, child?" he asked, holding out a hand for the pipe. Simon paused, glancing down at the paraphernalia clutched in his grip before slowly stepping forward and depositing the pipe and bag into his grandfather's work-callused fingers.

"To a _doctor,"_ Simon said as he watched Halwyn pack the pipe with tobacco before rolling up the bag. "You need _medicine."_

Chuckling, Halwyn tugged a small box of matches out from his front pocket and stuck the lip of the pipe between his teeth. "Colds and flus are normal this time of year," he assured, striking the match across the side of the box before lighting the tobacco packed into the reservoir. He took a few tentative puffs before extinguishing the match, setting the box down on the counter. "It will pass."

Simon shook his head and then wrapped his arms around his grandfather's waist in a tight hug. Halwyn stiffened and then relaxed, pulling the pipe from his lips. "I know it's been a trying winter, but spring will be here soon enough. We'll have plenty of customers then." He exhaled a plume of gray smoke as he pet over Simon's hair. "All the rich men will need to have their waistcoats loosened after Christmas."

"I can find a job if we don't have money for a doctor," Simon murmured, squeezing his grandfather all the tighter, digging his fingers into the thick fabric of his pants. "I see boys like me going to the factories all the time!"

He’d much rather be working with his grandfather, but with money being so tight, he wouldn't mind taking a second job. It wouldn’t pay much, but any pay was better than nothing.  
  
"Who would help me tend the shop while you’re away?" Halwyn asked as he continued to stroke his grandson's black hair. "Besides, those factories are terribly _dangerous,_ Simon." He took another puff from his pipe and then winced before hacking loudly, his hand pulling away from Simon's head to grip the counter as he coughed phlegm and smoke in equal measures.  
  
Simon’s frown deepened as he watched his grandfather yank out a black cloth from his vest, clearly a scrap from the discard pile rather than his nicely embroidered handkerchief upstairs.  
  
Halwyn carefully wiped his mouth as he slowly recovered, fixing a rather tight smile to his face before tucking the wrinkled cloth back into his pocket. “Now, how about you let me show you the best way to make a clean hem? We may not have a new commission at this moment, but there’s still work to be done."  
  
He reached over, gently squeezing Simon’s shoulder even as the boy said, “Can’t you rest? Just for today?”  
  
 _“Ah…”_ Halwyn began, his opposite hand setting the pipe down on the counter before pulling at the end of his wiry gray beard. “While it’s important to rest, sometimes it’s better to keep working,” he murmured. “It’s much easier to forget that you’re ill when you’re kept nice and busy.” He gave his grandson a wink and Simon pouted.  
  
“But-” Simon began as his grandfather’s hand slipped away to relight the pipe, bringing it back to his lips. The acidic scent of tobacco wafted over him and Simon frowned. “You won’t get better if you don’t rest.”  
  
Exhaling more smoke, Halwyn rounded the counter and gestured for Simon to follow as he sat down at the sewing machine. “That’s what sleep is for, Simon. Now pay attention. I don’t want you hurting yourself when you go to adjust the tension. There are a lot of gears and your fingers are _very_ small-”  
  
Still scowling, Simon moved to stand next to the work-station, his honey-brown eyes occasionally flickering from the machine to his grandfather’s face. He couldn’t help but noticed the pallor of his skin and the way the wrinkles that once softened his grandfather's brow and mouth now seemed to make him appear sunken and _drained._  
  
As the months passed and winter faded, his grandfather’s smiles grew more and more gaunt. Despite all Halwyn's reassurances, the sickness didn’t melt away with the snow.  
  
Then spring finally came, washing away the street slush with torrents of heavy rain and warm factory smog.  
  
The coughs were now little more than raspy rattles in the back of Halwyn’s throat and Simon found himself tensing unconsciously at the counter every time he heard it. His grandfather still worked hard to downplay his own fragility, insisting that they take on more orders despite the fact that even customers were beginning to eye him with concern.  
  
Then a little over a month before Simon’s ninth birthday…  
  
They finally stopped.

* * *

Pent woke slowly with a deep groan. His head was full of static and there was a particularly painful spot right behind his temple that absolutely _throbbed_ in protest as he forced himself up to sit. The snake hissed as his vision swam from the sudden shift, arms shaking with the effort needed to hold his torso up against the bed. Taking a few deep breaths, Pent managed to stabilize himself, vision clearing as the brain fog simmered down and left him with heavy limbs and a terrible headache.  
  
The room was empty save for Nuggets who was still snuggled alongside his tail atop the blankets, snoring softly in the quiet left by Angel’s absence. Pent furrowed his brow and blindly groped for his tablet, finding the device buried under the tangled sheets. Yawning, he sank back down into the pillows before unlocking the tablet and logging into the security system.  
  
Most of the rooms were empty, but it didn't take long for him to catch sight of Angel’s distinct silhouette in the kitchen. There was no sound, but it was clear that the spider was chatting with a few of the eggs as he worked on making some sort of rice...or maybe pasta? Pent pursed his lips, unable to tell from the colorless security footage.  
  
He sighed as his eyes flickered up to the timer at the top of the screen. 4 o’clock. He’d been asleep for nearly _six_ hours.  
  
“What a waste…” Pent muttered, glancing to Nuggets who was beginning to stir as well, the pig snorting and shifting up to stand. Pentious frowned and reached out, gently petting the piglet’s soft velvety ears. “I could have gotten _so_ much done today.”  
  
Though admittedly he did feel a _little_ better. His nose was significantly less stuffed and his throat wasn’t as raw as it had been, but still...  
  
All sickness passed with time regardless of whether or not that time was spent in bed or in his workshop. However, if Angel was distracted, _maybe_ he could sneak down and _finally_ make some progress on-  
  
Before he could even finish the thought, Nuggets unceremoniously hopped up onto his lap and sat on Pentious’ lower ribs, pinning the snake with a curious stare (and their body). Pent furrowed his brow and huffed. “Nuggets, please get off,” he said, patting the empty space in bed next to him. The pig just blinked and then laid down with a tired snort, much to the snake’s chagrin. “No, don’t _nap!_ You only just woke up!” Pent hissed with an annoyed growl as Fat Nuggets closed their black eyes and began to snore against the scales of his exposed belly.  
  
Tilting his head up to the ceiling, Pentious let out a deep sigh and pinched his brow bone. He could simply _remove_ the pig or even roll over and let them tumble safely to the sheets...but he knew he’d be instantly struck with all encompassing guilt as soon as Nugs stared at him with that pathetic look of _betrayal_ that the pig always gave him whenever he was forced to dethrone their pet.  
  
Pent shook his head and glared down at the oblivious piglet. For his age, Pentious really was far too susceptible to emotional manipulation. “Fine…I suppose I’m on _pillow duty_ for a while longer.”  
  
The pig did little to acknowledge their victory and simply snuffled against his fingers whenever they brushed Nuggets’ snout. Despite his mild annoyance, Pent couldn’t help the small smile that emerged as he tapped one red talon against the pig’s nose. “It’s very lucky that you’re cute…”  
  
“I could say the same thing about your dumbass, y’know?”  
  
Blinking, Pentious glanced up to see Angel holding a tray with two steaming bowls and a set of spoons stacks on top. “I’m not cute,” he argued as the spider kicked the door closed behind him and headed to the bed pit, stepping carefully to avoid spilling the tray’s contents.  
  
Angel chuckled and poked Pent’s forehead with one of his unoccupied hands. “You’re _super_ fuckin’ cute, but that doesn’t make you any less of a pain in my ass.” He kissed the same spot he prodded and then slowly sat down, crossing his long legs underneath him. “Ya hungry? We still got some of that soup downstairs, but I figured that you’d want somethin’ a lil’ heartier after your nap.”  
  
“That was hardly a nap. It was more like a drug-induced _coma,”_ Pent groused as he glanced down at the bowls, sniffing cautiously. “What on earth is that?” he asked as Angel claimed one portion for himself before offering the other to Pentious.  
  
“Pastina,” Angel said simply, scooping up a spoonful before bringing it to his mouth. “This was the stuff my ma and nana always made wheneva the kids were feelin’ shitty. We don't have all the fixin’s, but the eggs an’ I made due.” He nudged Pent’s shoulder with his elbow and said, “Try it. It ain’t that different from normal pasta.”  
  
Huffing, Pent picked up his bowl, careful not to disturb Nuggets on his lap as he lifted the spoon to his mouth and took a taste. The overall flavor was indeed very similar to normal pasta, but the texture was vastly different, feeling more like rice against his teeth and tongue than noodles. It was strange, but hardly unpleasant, especially since the butter oil clung to every star-shaped grain in the bowl, lubricating the back of his throat in a warm soothing slide when Pentious swallowed.  
  
Angel raised an eyebrow, watching him eat from the sidelines. “Good?” he asked before taking another bite himself. “I’d have made it less bland, but we didn’t have the right crap stocked and I didn’t wanna go to the store and leave you home alone.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be alone. The minions would tend to my needs,” Pent insisted as he swallowed. “But this is very good.” He paused, inhaling the steam that wafted up from the pastina and frowning as he only caught the scent of butter (which was surprisingly strong enough to overpower even the worst of his symptoms). “Bolder flavors would be wasted on me right now anyway.” He saw the spider’s expression soften into a smile and Pentious couldn’t help but return the expression. “I assume this is an Italian specialty?”  
  
“Course,” Angel said as he kicked his feet under the blankets and stole the tablet away from Pent, idly flicking through the media library. “If I know how ta make it, it’s Italian.” He selected another series of cartoons, this one featuring a character that vaguely resembled a brown fox and another that was some sort of weird blue bird. Pent raised an eyebrow as he looked over the characters, tapping the edge of the spoon against his lower lip. Even with the exaggerated proportions animation tended to favor, these designs were _very_ strange.  
  
However, he didn't question Angel's choice in cartoon and simply ate his pastina as he watched the lanky brown fox wordlessly chase the blue bird through a series of increasingly bizarre scenarios. At least with _Tom & Jerry _ , it was clear that Tom was trying to get _rid_ of Jerry the mouse, but this weird fox was going to absolutely ridiculous lengths...for a _single_ meal? “I _must_ be misunderstanding this. If he can just order all these materials and supplies from _ACME_ at any time, why doesn’t the fox just buy himself some food?” Pentious asked, wincing as the poor creature was flattened into a pancake before popping back up as a folded accordion with accompanying sound effects to match.  
  
Angel chuckled and shook his head. “Pen, babe...don’t try ta apply logic ta fuckin’ _cartoons,”_ the spider insisted as he wrapped one of his free arms around Pent’s back. “Also, he’s a coyote. This shit takes place in like...I dunno, _Arizona_ or somethin’. It came out after I kicked the bucket so I ain’t as familiar with these guys.” He gestured vaguely with his spoon toward the screen as the bird gave a distinctive _“meep meep”_ and dashed out of sight, leaving only the sparse desert landscape to fill the backdrop.  
  
Pent sighed, watching the _coyote_ construct an elaborate rocket so he could race alongside his elusive prey. “Well, even though he’s very technically skilled... _and_ rather ingenuitive, he surely would have starved to death by now.”  
  
Angel snickered, shoving the snake’s shoulder gently. “Yeah, he’s kinda like you in that sense. Hella smart, kinda dumb, and too damn _stubborn_ for his own good…”  
  
Pent scowled, tapping a talon against the side of his bowl as he glared at his laughing boyfriend. He may be stubborn, but it was with very good reason. He’d only managed to survive as long as he had because he had been too stubborn to give into defeat. This silly coyote might be a very cartoonish exaggeration of his own struggles, but it was hardly worthy of _mockery._ “Why on earth would he give up when his very life is on the line?” he asked in a quiet voice. “His only other option is accepting _death.”_ _  
_  
Angel blinked and then sighed, squeezing the snake’s shoulder. “It ain’t that deep, baby. He’s not even real.” He paused, watching as Pentious pouted and shoveled the rest of the pastina into his mouth. “But y’know...you ain’t had ta worry about your next meal for a long time. Ya don’t gotta rush shit, Pen. Work can wait.”  
  
“It’s not about rushing, it’s about keeping to a consistent schedule, about keeping to _deadlines,”_ Pent insisted, no longer paying any attention to the cartoon playing in the background. “Nothing gets done otherwise.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl with a loud clatter, waking Nuggets who gave a startled squeal before leaping off his lap.  
  
Pent winced as the pig settled next to Angel instead, their ears slowly lowering as they realized that the loud noise wasn’t a real threat. Sighing, the snake coiled his tail up under the blankets and set the empty bowl back down onto the tray, sniffling softly as he reached for a fresh tissue to blow his nose. “Even in the face of eternity...it’s important to keep going.”  
  
Angel pursed his lips and then paused the video, reaching out with one of his free hands to touch over Pentious’ clammy cheek. “If you’ve managed ta keep workin’ through two lifetimes, I think you don’t have anythin’ to worry about consistency-wise...so maybe don’t beat yourself up when ya gotta take some time off?”  
  
Shifting against the pillows, Pentious chewed his tongue and crossed both arms over his chest, curling in on himself even as Angel continued to pet down the side of his face.  
  
It wasn’t that he never rested or _never_ indulged in hobbies. But very few days went by that he didn’t work on some sort of project. If he wasn’t building, he was testing out a tool or weapon, planning his next raid, shopping for supplies, making repairs, etc, etc,…

Even now, being idle for an entire day felt utterly alien.  
  
“Hey-” Pent found his chin being tilted up and he blinked, meeting Angel’s soft eyes. “I know it ain’t easy to shut this shit off. Old habits don’t go down clean an’ all that, but as you said, we literally got _all_ the time in the damn universe.” He thumbed over Pentious’ jawline and smiled, adding, “So I hope you don't mind sharin’ some of it with me?”  
  
Pent swallowed hard as the spider scanned his face, the mismatched pupils minutely twitching as they stared at him. “Considering you’ve forbade me from leaving the bed, I don’t really have much of a _choice_ in the matter, now do I?”  
  
Angel’s smile fell and the other Demon let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve _always_ got a choice, Pen...but sometimes I think you'd lock yourself into this bullshit pattern regardless.” He pinched the snake’s chin before releasing him, laying back down and unpausing the video just as the coyote character lost control of his rocket and crashed face first into a massive cliff.  
  
Still pouting, Pent turned to watch the screen, chewing on his tongue behind closed lips as he mulled Angel’s words over in his head.  
  
Maybe he had been spending too much time focused on work...but was that such a _bad_ thing? Angel had known going into their relationship that Pentious would likely never stop pursuing his goals and thus never stop working toward a better tomorrow…  
  
In all his years, Pent had never once thought of his work ethic as a problem; after all, who didn’t appreciate a highly skilled and determined worker?  
  
But as he watched the coyote fail time and time again, causing himself more bodily harm than was possible for anyone to reasonably survive...Pentious found himself wondering if Angel might have a _point._

* * *

The naked prototype engine gave a shrill whistle as the exposed gears engaged, clacking noisily against one another in a rather stilted rhythm. Simon furrowed his brow as the pistons fired out of sync, the exhaust spewing a cloud of smog directly into his face. He winced and coughed, batting the cloud of foul air away as the machine continued to burn through the coal in its deposit. At least the damn thing was _running_ this time. Though with such a slow start up, it was unlikely to be powerful enough to propel anything larger than a _bicycle_ across a reasonable distance.  
  
Rubbing his chin through his beard, he turned back to his workbench, letting the engine squeak noisily behind him. Making it bigger would give him more space within the shell casing, but then it would be far too heavy to be considered portable. Any smaller than what he had now and the pressure may very well cause the whole bloody thing to _explode._  
  
As he mulled over the possibilities, the scent of Kat’s lavender perfume wafted over him and Simon barely had any time to react before both of his wife’s arms enveloped his chest, gently tugging him away from the workbench. _“Katherine…”_ he murmured, turning to meet her soft brown eyes with his own. “You should be in _bed.”_  
  
Kat snorted before standing on her slippered toes to kiss his cheek. She then nodded to the clock sitting on the bench and lifted one hand to tap the center of his forehead. Simon winced. Eleven o’clock was hardly the latest he’d ever stayed down in the lab, but it certainly wasn’t early by any means.  
  
Sighing softly, he looked down at Kat and said, “I’ll be along in a little while. I promise.” He smiled, tucking one long coil of curly gray and brown hair behind her ear as the prototype engine continued to noisily whine across the room. “I’ve just got a few more things to take care of.”  
  
She frowned and pulled her arms free to sign. _“You_ **_always_ ** _say that. Come upstairs, Simon.”_ _  
_  
Simon briefly glanced to the workbench before his eyes flickered back over to the clock, the measured ticking completely obscured behind the noisy engine running behind him. “Half an hour. I’ll come up in half an hour,” he promised, leaning down and pressing a soft peck to her lips. “I’ll be washed up and in bed before the stroke of midnight.”  
  
Kat pursed her mouth into a thin line and crossed both arms over her chest, tapping one slippered foot against the floor. Simon smiled and cupped her shoulders. “I _promise,_ darling. Now go back to bed before you catch cold in this drafty workshop.” He carefully tied the fabric of her dressing gown closed and Kat sighed, shaking her head dismissively.  
  
 _“30 minutes,”_ she signed sternly. _“Don’t get lost on your way upstairs.”_  
  
He nodded and gave her one last hug. “I won’t, Kat,” he assured his wife before she pulled away and headed to the door. She paused as she grasped the handle, turning to meet his stare across the room. Simon winked and she returned it with an amused roll of her eyes as she closed the door slowly behind her.   
  
Simon’s shoulders slumped once her footsteps disappeared, leaving him alone with the rhythmic chug of the test engine. Shaking his head, he glanced at the clock and then picked up his wrench. “Half an hour…” he repeated under his breath as he lifted a set of detached security bolts in his opposite hand. He could at least get them fitted to the new shell before washing up.  
  
Carefully, he began to secure the bolts to the thicker plating, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked the fasteners into the holes he’d already drilled through the welded steel.  
  
Simon winced as the clanking got a little louder, the sound pounding a metal tattoo against the inside of his skull as he fought against the stubborn metal. “Bloody hell, this isn’t going to _fit…”_ he groused to himself as he thumbed over the holes in the sheet. He’d drilled too small and the entry points would need to be widened if the bolts were to slide cleanly through.  
  
Huffing, Simon slammed his wrench against the table, leaning over the workbench as he dragged a calloused hand down the side of his face to loosely tug on the end of his beard. “No time for that now...”  
  
He only had 30 minutes to-

Simon glanced at the clock.  
  
Correction: he had _25_ minutes to figure out a way to make the bolts fit without breaking out the damn drill again.  
  
As he thought, the engine began to whine, the shrill piercing sound not helping his frayed concentration _at all._ Gritting his teeth, Simon walked back over to the prototype and watched as the exposed gears rotated rapidly, the motion much smoother and faster than it had been earlier.  
  
His brow furrowed. Wait, why was there steam coming from the pistons and not the exhaust?  
  
Simon heaved a disappointed sigh and shook his head. Well this test was already a failure so there was no sense in burning through the rest of the fuel cache. As the machine began to screech even louder, he reached for the primary lever-  
  
 _BANG_  
  
Simon had no time to register the explosion as he was instantly blown back and sent flying clear across the room. His head made contact with the floor and a sharp _crack_ echoed in his ears for a split second before his vision went completely dark.  
  
It only felt like a few minutes, but in truth, Simon didn’t know how long he was actually knocked out for. When he finally began to slowly swim back into consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that he could no longer hear the noisy clank of the engine gears or the shrill shriek of the exhaust.  
  
In fact...the only thing he could hear were hundreds of blood-curdling human _screams._ _  
__  
_Slowly sitting up, Simon blinked his eyes open, raising one hand to touch the back of his head as he took in his surreal surroundings.  
  
The lab was gone, replaced with a foreign city that hardly resembled the wet grimy streets of London (despite appearing equally as _filthy)._ Frowning, he tilted his head up and let out a small gasp as he realized that the sky above was redder than fresh rouge and that the moon was now patterned with a bright crimson _pentagram._  
  
Biting his lip, Simon twisted around and looked over both shoulders in an attempt to get his bearings. Where on earth was he? Was he dreaming? Had he passed out in the lab?  
  
He winced. Oh Kat was going to be absolutely _furious_ if he had fallen asleep without coming upstairs...  
  
Simon sighed and shook his head, only to pause as he caught sight of his own hands which were adorned with bright red _claws._ He flinched, raising both palms up in horrified curiosity. Why did he only have _four_ fingers? What sort of dream (or _nightmare)_ was this?  
  
Tilting his chin down, Simon's eyes went wide and he covered his mouth with both palms. His legs were gone and in their place was a massive winding _tail_ adorned with dozens of red eyes. The slit pupils immediately flickered up and suddenly Simon was greeted with the most bizarre perspective as he stared at _himself._  
  
But...no, it wasn’t him. It was some sort of black scaly _monster._ _  
__  
_Taking a few deep gulps of air, Simon averted his gaze from the swath of eyes and looked back out at the streets surrounding him. Even stranger creatures than himself were fleeing from a group of large ghostly gray figures that seemed to float on the air like a wave of ghoulish butterflies. Simon swallowed as he caught sight of their eerie smiles, the eyes and mouths glowing an unnatural white against entirely black faces. The expression looked far more like the mocking facsimile of a theater mask than anything close to humanoid features.

Then his gaze locked on the specters' spears which glowed a sharp metallic blue even in the red-tinted moonlight and Simon felt his heart skip a beat as a nearby streetlamp illuminated the sharp edge in vivid detail.

They were covered in viscera and dripping a viscous mixture of blood and tissue.  
  
As Simon sat there stunned, one of the ghosts glanced his way and a cold fear gripped him by the chest, stealing his breath and leaving him with only enough air to murmur one simple word.  
  
 _“...Kat?”_

* * *

The next morning, Pentious woke with a _much_ clearer head. He was still rather tired and weak, but his skin didn’t feel as feverish and he could actually _breathe_ through his nose. Sitting up, he yawned, stretching both arms above his head until his elbows cracked. The space next to him was empty, but the bathroom light was on and he could clearly see the silhouette of his boyfriend in the door frame as Angel bent over the marble counter.  
  
Hearing a tired oink, Pent turned away from the bathroom to spot Nuggets standing at the edge of the bed pit, clearly waiting on an invitation to join him. Pentious smiled softly and patted the space beside him, shifting some of the blankets aside for the pig. With a small squeal, Nuggets tumbled down into the snake’s tail, righting themselves and shaking their head as Pent chuckled and pulled the pig onto his lap.  
  
“How're ya feelin’?”  
  
Pent looked up, catching Angel’s eyes as the other Demon peered out of the bathroom, fringe still damp from his morning shower and clad in little more than his fluffy pink bathrobe. “Better,” the snake remarked as Angel switched off the light and headed over to the bed, stepping into the pit before pressing the back of his hand against Pent’s brow ridge.  
  
“Mmm, yeah, still a lil’ hotter than I’d like, but least ya ain’t burnin’ up like you were yesterday.” Angel sighed and raised an eyebrow, resting his lower set of hands on his hips. “You could probably do some work today. Limited of course.” He poked Pent’s nose and added, “We don’t want a relapse.”  
  
Blinking, Pent glanced down at Fat Nuggets who was happily leaning into his scritches and snorting against his scales. “Are you saying I’m finally allowed to leave the bedroom? You’re giving me permission?” he said with more than a _little_ sarcasm lacing his words.  
  
Angel snorted and rolled his eyes as he crossed both sets of arms over his chest. “Yeah yeah, fucker. I’m givin’ ya the all clear for goin’ downstairs…” He lifted one hand from the crook of his elbow to point at the snake. _“But_ ya gotta eat and down some meds first. Also, you’re takin’ breaks. No holin’ yourself up in the shop for ten fuckin’ hours, ya hear? Doctor’s orders.”  
  
Pent shrugged as he continued to pet down Nugs back, one talon coiling the pig’s curly tail up into a spring. “Understood,” he murmured as the spider leaned in and kissed his cheek before climbing back out of the bed.  
  
“Now be a good boy while I go an’ check on breakfast,” Angel ordered, adjusting the belt around his trim waist before turning on his heel to head toward the door. Pent watched Angel leave the room before picking up his tablet and scrolling through the list of downloaded videos and movies that his boyfriend had curated.  
  
A familiar name caught his eye and he selected the first title underneath it labeled _Goin’ to Town_. He was instantly greeted by the image of a blonde bombshell in a form-fitting white gown adorned by a collar of roses. She looked incredibly elegant with a large white fur boa draped over her pale shoulders, but there was a clear playfulness in her eyes that teased the idea of an inner mischief. Pent hummed and rubbed his chin as he read through the plot synopsis, Nugs nibbling the fingers of his opposite hand all the while.

He hadn’t even realized Angel had returned with a breakfast tray until the spider was already climbing back into the pit. “Whatcha readin’?” Angel asked, peering over his shoulder as he set the tray down between them.  
  
“Is this the woman you mentioned the other day?” Pent asked, turning the screen to Angel and watching as the spider’s mismatched eyes lit up with surprise.  
  
“Oh yeah, that’s Mae all right,” Angel said with a chuckle and a light pink blush. “Always said if I was inta dames that she’d be the one I’d hitch my post to.” He grinned and gave a playful pinch to Pentious’ shoulder. “Bet you’d look real hot in a tight lil' numba like that. Certainly got the ass to fill it out at any rate.”

Snorting, Pent returned the spider’s smirk and lowered the tablet to pick up his tea. “Is Miss West the origin of your _ass fetish?”_ he teased as his boyfriend settled in next to him, taking one of the knives to cut up the veggie sausages and larger pieces of scrambled egg.  
  
“She definitely didn’t help,” Angel admitted with a playful flick of his tongue. “But she was funny as sin and had the kinda wit that could make a fella’s head spin. At the time, there just wasn’t anyone else like her on screen.” He glanced back to the movie poster and tipped the knife toward her coquettish face. “Seein’ someone like her bein’ herself regardless of what everybody else thought...I dunno, it just clicked with me.”  
  
Pentious nodded, lifting the tablet again as he flicked through the various screenshots taken from the picture in question, showing West in all manner of provocative gowns and a distinctive smirk curling her lips. “I imagine you never got to meet, her being a celebrity and all?”  
  
Angel shook his head, chewing through a mouthful of sausage. “Nah. But I saw every picture she was in at least _twice.”_ He reached over, flipping back to the list of films to pull up one titled _She Done Him Wrong_ which featured West in another stunning white gown and looking slightly apprehensive (if not _annoyed)_ as a man in a black suit clung to her back. “This one’s my fav. I was in my 20s an’ still buryin’ my head in the sand at the time, but when I walked outta that theater, I finally felt like I knew what the fuck I _was._ I mean, there was no leavin’ the closet at the time, but this shit-” he tapped the screen pointedly. _“This_ had me chasin’ after fellas. Mighta been all hush hush, but it was better than before. Without her, I mighta kept tryin’ ta repress it and be the man I was _supposed_ ta be.”  
  
Pausing, Angel’s smile slowly fell and he glanced to Pentious, briefly meeting the snake’s curious stare before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’ll stop babblin’ like a fuckin’ fangirl. Clear your plate and then you can get ta work, baby.” He gestured down to the snake’s untouched food and Pent furrowed his brow as he picked up the remaining fork, idly poking the side of one sausage.  
  
“If you want, we can watch it,” Pent murmured, scooping up some crumbles of scrambled egg onto the tines before bringing it to his mouth. “It certainly seems like an interesting film in its own right, but I'm also rather intrigued by this woman who has enough raw sexual prowess to turn a gay man _straight.”_  
  
Angel snorted, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he laughed and Pentious found himself unable to stop the smile that split his own face in response. “Eh, more like _bi-curious_ at best, Pen…” He paused and then jerked one thumb back toward the door. “But what about all your deadlines and shit? Thought that was top of the agenda today?”  
  
Pentious pursed his lips. It was true that he had been chomping at the bit to finally get back to his battery project, but at the same time...seeing his boyfriend so enthusiastic to share in the films that gave him such _intimate_ personal comfort was something that Pent was rather reluctant to part with.  
  
Was the work important? _Yes_...but could it _wait?_  
  
Slowly, Pent lowered his fork, exchanging it for one of the cups of tea steeping on their breakfast tray. He inhaled the steam, smelling a faint tinge of lemon in spite of his stuffy nose before he glanced back to Angel and met his mismatched eyes over the rim of the cup. “I am still feeling a _bit_ under the weather and you did bring up a very good point about the possibility of relapse.” He paused to take a sip, swallowing the warm liquid slowly and letting it coat the back of his throat in a smooth slide. “It would be a shame to make myself sick all over again.”  
  
Angel raised an eyebrow and Pent exhaled slowly, nodding toward the tablet. “One more day of rest won’t hurt.”  
  
For a moment, Angel was silent, staring at him as if to gauge whether or not he was serious before the spider finally propped the tablet up against one of the pillows. “Well fuck...in that case, I’m gonna have ta introduce you to all the classics.” He grinned as he pressed his torso into Pent’s shoulder, winking slyly at the snake. “Least while I got ya as a captive audience.”  
  
Pentious nodded quietly, holding the warm tea in one hand as he leaned forward (careful not to disturb Nuggets) and hit the Play button.  
  
As the title credits played, Pent silently shifted his tail and wrapped the end of it around one of Angel's legs under the covers. Angel briefly locked eyes with him before taking Pent's free hand in his own and squeezing it in turn. The spider then smirked and raised it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the black scales in a teasing swipe. Pentious giggled, unable to suppress the laughter that bubbled up from his belly as a heady mixture of tea and butterflies filled the empty space.  
  
Pent may have gotten no work done that day...or even on the next, but nevertheless: it was time well spent.

**Author's Note:**

> Welsh was translated via Google Translate. Please feel free to correct.
> 
> Please Comment?


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